


Viraha

by WitchProject19



Series: Dragon Age AUs [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bi!Solas, Blood, Bombs, CEO Bashing, Control Issues, Corporate Espionage, Corporate corruption, Death Threats, Dragon Age Spoilers, Drama, F/M, Fear of Death, Fluff, Job before Love, Lawyers, Legal Drama, Loss of Limbs, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Medical Trauma, Minor Spoilers, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Role Reversal, Romance, Service Animals, Slow Burn, The Veil, super slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchProject19/pseuds/WitchProject19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas receives death threats daily. It's a natural part of being the most vicious prosecutor in Thedas and he is hardly bothered by the limp threats of men behind bars. Of course, that is, until one actually tries to follow through. As the investigation works to catch his attempted murderer and his apartment all but demolished, Solas is placed under protective custody to ward off any other attempts on his life, forcing him to cope with being the only one NOT in control of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must give credit where credit is due, so I blame this entire idea on UsakoAuditore's 'Lawyer Up' fic that I've been reading the past few days, so if you guys want to go and see theirs the link is here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5098823/chapters/11728013

Death threats were supposed to be taken seriously. He knew that. Firm policy even stated that he report them to his employer, but after seven years of working with a notoriously unbeatable law firm and putting thousands of people behind bars, the threats he received hourly were barely exciting enough to merit notice. Which was why he tossed the current letter on his desk in the shredder when he returned from the final verdict on his latest appeal case, the threatening box letters reading in the generic ‘you will pay for what you have done with your life’ with the average amount of expletives and insults mixed in only confirming he had done his job yet again. People hated to be held accountable, especially those who were entitled to a life free of discrimination and exploitation. Solas sighed quietly as he leaned back in his office chair, scrolling through his email with very little interest in the advertisements and gibberish filling his inbox, his mind a whirlwind of activity after another stimulating day before the court. Nothing could top beating the Pantheon Conglomerate in the courtroom for a second time. The very thought of his win brought a small smile to his face, Solas looking up from his monitor as Josephine bounced in from her office down the hall, her own grin mirroring his carefully regulated glee.

“I heard the good news! You must come and celebrate with us tonight.” He bit down on a groan of dread and looked at his calendar, immediately regretting he hadn’t taken the offer for a minor theft case to block out his otherwise free weekend.

“I can’t refuse you this time can I?”

“No! You shimmied out of the last six offers for drinks with us, and this case has been brewing for months, you can't just refuse a night off when you’ve earned it. I’ve already checked your schedule and you’re entirely free until Monday morning, so don’t go making excuses either.” He rubbed his nose and straightened again, looking at her with thinly veiled, fake, annoyance.

“I will agree-” She grinned and nodded enthusiastically, speaking over him quickly.

“Great! I’ll make plans-” He shot her a look that immediately quieted her interruption, Solas fixing his collar with one hand.

“Only if we go to a small restaurant and I am not kept from home for more than three hours. That includes the drinks afterwards. I won’t have you pay for the whole bill either, I know how much Morrigan’s corporate larceny victory dinner cost and I will not let our ‘celebrations’ bleed you dry.” Josephine pulled her face into what he hoped was not a pout, her eyes still lit with pure excitement.

“You’re the only person who lets people win by losing, you know that Solas?” He nodded and glanced at a new email from the Chantry Board of Education, ignoring it as he checked his phone for any missed calls. One from Dorian and another from Cassandra, but neither warranted interrupting his conversation.

“I am keenly aware of it, yes.”

“Fine, I will get us a seat at that Orlesian pizzeria you like so much, will that suffice?”

“That would be wonderful Josephine, call me when the reservation is set and I be there, now if you’ll excuse me I must to return a call from the police chief.” Josephine nodded and left him be, Solas redialing Cassandra’s number as he read over the Board’s email. Another plea for him to aid them in further watering down the mage education standards, one that he immediately refused, politely, and sent off as Cassandra answered him with her usual clipped tone.

_“Chantry Police Chief Pentaghast speaking.”_

“Cassandra, you called while I was in court, what was it you needed?”

_“Ah, Solas, I wanted to make you aware of a few prisoners that released on parole two weeks ago, their names just crossed my desk and several of them are past cases of yours.”_

“I see, well, I will be sure to keep an eye out for them and call you if there is trouble.” There was some shuffling on her end before she spoke again, a small sigh rasping in his ear.

_”Yes, that would be wise. Have you gotten any more threats we should be aware of?_

“Only one this morning but it was outlandishly childish. I may receive more once the news story circulates.” Cassandra sighed again and tapped the desk impatiently.

_”I would sleep better at night knowing you took them seriously, Solas.”_

“I have no reason to be afraid, no one knows my address and we do not take visitors at the office per Flemeth’s rules. I will be fine Cassandra.”

 _”I would not be so sure, you are taking down some extremely large players in the corporate game at the moment and you’re still at risk of being attacked over the whole Veil Pact incident.”_ He rolled his eyes and nudged his trashcan with one foot, noting the mass of crumpled notes in the bin.

“That pact saved millions of practically enslaved elvish workers from being exploited by that conglomerate, why anyone is angry about me finally putting an end to corporate slavery is beyond comprehension.” He scowled at his email as it began filling with messages, closing out of the browser to separate himself from the desperate crowd of reporters before standing to collect his coat and scarf.

_”You know just as well as I that it was because they were being caught for exploiting elves. Had it been dwarves you would have been made a paragon, but all you got was that ridiculous nickname.”_

“I have been called much worse than a ravenous wolf Cassandra.”

_”Indeed you have. Oh damn, I have a call from the Chantry on the other line, I’ll have to call you back later with those names, have a good evening Solas.”_

“Good evening Cassandra.” He hung up and locked his office door, checking the time before he started on the walk to the parking garage, knowing he would beat rush hour traffic if he left within the next six minutes. First home to change for that evening’s required amount of socialization, then back for a possible movie before bed and a quiet weekend ahead of him, his victorious euphoria fading slightly with the sobering realization his privacy would no longer exist once that night’s news broadcasted.

 

They were finishing dinner when the bulletin came on, Morrigan, Josephine, and Dorian all turning to watch the ever illustrious Viivienne de Fer of the Orlesian-World News Network give her detailed, and always accurate, account of that day’s most interesting news. Solas took a small sip of his water and watched the screen as attentively as the others, noting the other patrons doing the same as her voice came on over the dimming music.

“Hello and welcome to the evening edition of the OWNN, I am Vivienne de Fer and I will be your reporter this evening.” Josephine sighed and smiled softly, watching Vivienne read through her notes.

“She is absolutely gorgeous, there isn’t an outfit she owns that wouldn’t look stunning on her.” Dorian handed off his cup to the waitress as she passed, wiping off his mouth with a napkin.

“You do know she is paid to look pretty, yes?”

“Oh, I know, but she is quite intelligent too. Apparently she scored a 990 on the Circle exit exams, one of the highest in Thedas if I remember.” Solas wanted terribly to tell her that the score hardly meant anything by the new standards, but remained quiet to avoid seeming rude, instead taking another piece of pizza as Vivienne addressed the camera once more.

“As we all know the final verdict on the appeals case for the Pantheon Conglomerate CEOs was reached today in front of the high court in Ferelden, headed by none other than the prosecutor Solas of the Arlathan Law Firm, the same man who brought the CEOs under heavy fire and passed the Veil Pact during the initial investigation into the Black City scandal four years ago. Investigations were started into the Conglomerate after the devastating fire and blackout that was later responsible for more than three hundred thousand deaths across the country.The CEOs have been appealing their sentences since last June, but with little to no evidence in their favour they were never released on the collective 14 billion dollar bond placed on them despite having the funds to do so. ” She shuffled her papers as the cameras switched to a new perspective, her eyes following them over. ”This appeal was, as the court later stated, a desperate plea to escape the harshest parts of their sentences; and I am glad to report that the appeal was denied after only a half hour of deliberation by the grand jury. The information presented at the appeal was not only that of the initial prosecution, but padded by new and even more shocking evidence that is most damning for the group responsible. As far as we have been made aware, the Pantheon Conglomerate was involved in money laundering schemes for various organizations within their possession and using underpaid elvish citizens to drop production costs drastically to better improve their profit margins. At this time the Arlathan Law Firm refuses to make a comment about what will be done about this horrendous exploitation of our newest citizens, but I am sure there will be major repercussions for the various rights violations this Conglomerate has engaged in.” She smiled cooly and turned back to the first camera, pausing for a moment as information came through her earpiece. “And now for the breaking news tonight; it seems the unrest in the Redcliffe province has finally boiled over into a full-blown riot, Chantry police forces are being overwhelmed by the extremist Mage Rights Activist group currently residing there and are using brutal force to push back the worst of the attackers. As this is new information we do not have video yet but I have been told we should have a reporter on the ground by midnight, so please tune in for the 12 am news for the newest updates or visit our breaking news page from the OWNN homepage.” Her smile seemed slightly strained as she switched cameras again, Solas watching her shoulders tense. He knew she was an avid Circle supporter, but she stood for the old values of protecting and educating mages, not the current ideal of pigeonholing them and forgetting they existed. Solas was of the mind that if he could not have free mages, he could stand well educated ones, so she was on his good side until further notice. Dorian frowned delicately and turned back to his food, taking his refill when the waitress handed it over.

“That was not the news I was expecting to break after your win, Solas.”

“Nor was I Dorian, but good news is always followed by a shadow.”

“Must you always be so dramatic? You’re making me look drab.” He gave Dorian a wry smile and kept eating, noting the looks he was receiving from several of the more astute patrons, one pointing directly at him from across the dining room, an action that he followed by kissing the last hope of a quiet evening goodbye, sincerely hoping he would not find new candid pictures of himself in his inbox the next morning as Josephine ordered a small assortment of cakes for dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The law processes described in this fic will be based on the American justice system with some changes to fit the magical realm this takes place in, but I'll do my best to keep you guys informed on the details so it doesn't get too confusing.


	2. Chapter 2

Solas was woken, rudely, by the sudden and incessant beeping of his phone the next morning, one hand reaching out from the warmth of his covers to retrieve the accursed device from his nightstand after a few minutes of debating whether he should simply ignore it. He squinted at the screen with a small groan, watching a mass of messages roll in from several sources. Not one day of reprieve from the sharks it seemed. After a few more minutes settled comfortably in his comforter he finally hauled himself from the blankets and began answering the messages as they came in, running one hand over the smooth dome of his head. So many people with the same questions at nine in the morning. Most wanted statements on his performance at court while others wanted that and his plans for the CEOs now that he had them by the metaphorical balls. Of course Varric’s name was among the list of those he had to respond to, but what statements he could make to the police chief's husband, and all reporters for that fact, were limited by his legal obligations as a prosecutor. He sighed and defaulted to his usual ‘thank you’s and ‘no comment’s before tossing his phone on the bed and stretching his back with a long groan. The sore temptation to return to bed hung over him, and he was available to do so now that he was entirely free of obligations, but there was the niggling feeling that he was wasting a good day to get some cleaning done and eventually he settled on starting his laundry; tossing the first load in before starting on breakfast with the news playing in the background, letting the drawling of the Ferelden reporter fill the silence. Once his oatmeal had cooled off enough to eat he settled into the couch and watched the footage of the riot, noting the sheer brutality the police used on any mage they could get their hands on, and the number of severe injuries recorded were a good indication of the dangers to come for mages. He would have to be even more careful with his own magic to avoid being ripped from his pedestal by the Chantry. 

“So far we have been given no indication as to when the riots should be contained but by the looks of the situation in the province we may not be free of the activists until later this month. In other news, the Warden football team has catapulted to fifth in the National League this week after an impressive win against the Antivan Crows, captain Amell has stated that they are fully prepared to take on the Drakes in this weekend’s semi-final match in Orlais.” Solas frowned slightly when he heard his phone ringing from his bed, moving to search it out after he had placed his bowl in the sink, answering just before the call went to his voicemail.

“Hello?”

_“Hello! This is Jenny’s Package Delivery Service, am I speaking with a Mr. Solas at 1919 East Teagan street in the business district?”_

“Ah, yes, you are.” 

_“Wonderful! We’ve received a package for you and I’d just like to make sure you will be home at two or three in the afternoon today to sign for the delivery.”_ Solas frowned, momentarily forgetting every purchase he had made in the last few weeks. 

“I should be home all day, though I’m not aware of any deliveries I was waiting on. Do you have access to who the sender was?” 

_“Oh! Yes I do, the sender was a...let me see...the sender is Blue Fin corporation, the note on the box here says it's a new batch of business cards, a new case to hold them, and a fountain pen as an added bonus for being a first time customer. Rush delivery.”_ He looked through his receipts and found the confirmation notice from Wednesday, nodding to himself.

“That’s the one, thank you for contacting me miss…?”

_“Dagna, and it was no trouble at all sir, please just be aware we do require a signature as a part of our policy.”_

“Of course, notify the rider to press the call button for apartment 78F in the lobby and I will ring them in. New building policy.” 

_“I will be sure to do so! Have a good day!”_

“Thank you, and have a good day as well.” He sighed and hung up, tossing his phone back onto the comforter before replacing his receipts in his desk. The package was coming much quicker than expected, especially for a print job of nearly four hundred cards and a personalized aluminium case, but apparently the extra ten dollars for rush shipping meant a measly three day wait, which he did not mind in the slightest. Solas straightened the covers on his bed before moving back out to rinse off his dishes and catch the last portion of the morning report on a pair of parolees causing a ruckus in the downtown area, making a mental note to call Cassandra about his past prisoners on parole after his shower. 

 

Saturdays were bad days for her on principle. People were always grumpy and no one tipped well, especially in the mornings. Which was usually why she drew dicks on their packages. She snorted and swerved out in front of a parked cab, letting the bird fly at the cabbie as she sped past him on her bike, weaving in and out of traffic without a care as to whether they honked or swore at her. That was one pleasure of being on two wheels, traffic jams really didn't matter to her, and she could get so many places regular delivery vehicles couldn’t. She loved the freedom, and pissing off drivers. Wasn’t like they could move in the traffic jam in their stupid cars anyway. Sera took a hard right and ducked through the alleyway behind the old confectioner’s shop near the courthouse, pausing only to switch songs on her phone before racing off to pick up that day’s set of packages from the warehouse. She practically threw her bike into the rack, sliding her time card in for the morning and going to find her packages on the shelf. Not as many as yesterday but enough to fill her day until lunch or later depending on how chatty the customers were.

“Sera! We have a super fragile package for you on the counter here.” 

“Wozzat?” She turned and squinted at the box near Dagna’s counter, the plain brown wrapping sitting there and just asking for her to draw a big swollen dick on it. She could do the veins too, a whole lot of them on the shaft and make it-

“Yep, it’s going up to the business district.” 

“Awwwh...how come I hafta go there? You know those ponce arseholes won’t tip!”

“Only because you write obscenities on their boxes and draw penises on the paper. And this guy sounded genuinely nice on the phone, if a little rigid, just try not to cuss at him if he doesn’t tip.” She stuck out her bottom lip in defiance, ears dipping down dramatically. 

“That was one time, and they always get boring old packages with nothing on ‘em. Nothing fun goes up there.” Sera waved her hands upwards as she approached the desk, tapping the box impatiently, watching as Dagna looked over that day’s traffic reports. 

“It’s happened more than once, and you have to be nice to the people trusting us with their packages, it’s not like they have any other quality rush delivery service to go to. And they pay good money to get these sent the places they need to. You wouldn't want someone vandalizing your property would you?” She shot Dagna a halfhearted glare and took the package, stuffing it in her bag.

“I would if I deserved to be knocked down a few notches.”

“Sera…”

“Fine fine fine, I won't draw on the packages..” Dagna grinned, her whole face lighting up with the expression. Her smiles were, undoubtedly, the best. “But it isn't because I’m being nice to those idiots upstairs.” 

“It’s a step in the right direction in anycase. Try and stay off Divine Avenue today, looks like the riots are causing some nasty traffic and cops are all over trying to keep people out of Redcliffe. The super fragile package is going up to room 78F, you’ll have to get rung in by the resident.” She nodded, pulling on the ‘company’ hat and vest before going to collect her other packages, starting up her music again. “Try and ride safe okay? We still have that dinner thing at Krem’s at eight tonight.”

“There’s no way I’m missing Kremmie’s barbeque.” Sera winked at her and mounted her bike, holding the first package under one arm as she started off towards the banking sector, swerving in and out of the alleys until she was back out on the secondary route they used. First stop was the weird blondie who kept buying cheques with cats on them, and no amount of tipping would convince her that a man wearing a feathered robe from the thrift shop down the way was normal. This morning he was seated outside with a fluffy and absurdly bad tempered tabby, an excuse she used to keep her distance as she collected her signature and tip before wheeling away as fast as she could. Three dollars was measly, but it bought her a coffee on the way to the main square, a pair of deliveries dropping off within the next hour with even less cash to show for her speedy work. Sera huffed at the stoplight as she waited for it to change, bobbing her head in time to the music playing in her ears with a box balanced on her handlebars. People were staring at her yellow plaid jeans, and honestly, she wanted them to. They were cool as hell. The light turned ans she raced off again, swerving down into the tunnel and past the intersection where the cops were blocking off entrance to the provincial highways, stopping abruptly to hand off the next box near the shopping mall, taking her five dollar tip with a smile. Not so well off people tipped the best, they knew the importance of a service and would pay for quality. Not like the buggers running everything. They wanted cheap, fast, and good all bundled up into one without having to pay anything extra for the trouble. And that mentality was shite. She would have to talk to Dagna about putting up a flat handling rate just to make sure they got a little profit from the deliveries they made after her afternoon circuit was done. 

Eventually she made it up to the business sector and pulled up at the apartment complex, chaining up her bike before stomping her way inside with the last package in tow. It was almost dinner time, but she felt justified in being late due to the damn drawbridge being stuck halfway open for three hours. She didn't like the idea of swimming with mister fancy pants’ package. Sera poked the 78F button and waited, tapping her foot impatiently on the impeccable tile floor. There was a click and a man’s voice answered moments later.

“Hello?”

“Got a delivery here for Solas. Jenny’s Delivery Service.”

“Of course, come up to floor six please.” The glass door beeped next to her and unlocked, letting her into the elevator and up into the apartment complex. There was an overwhelming urge to steal something, but she couldn't risk getting caught while on the job, so she settled with making faces at the security cameras as she passed them in the hall, stopping in front of the door marked 78 and knocking as loudly as possible. Moments later the door opened and she was presented with the elfiest elf to ever elf, his bald head shining slightly in the fluorescent lights. If she hadn't thought better she could have mistaken him for one of the elves they put up at the department stores during the holidays.

“Box for ya, super fragile.” He nodded and took the package carefully, signing the receipt and handing it back to her with a ten dollar note.

“Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too mister. Thanks for the tip.” Sera stuffed the bill in her pocket and jogged off, leaving Solas to his package as he went back inside, setting it on the table to be opened after he finished his dinner. Just in time to refill his holder at the office, he was running desperately low on cards after last month's influx of clients. As the quiet settled back over his apartment he sighed quietly and got back to eating, hardly bothering with filling the empty air when there was no need for it, He enjoyed having a quiet day to himself, quiet for the most part any way, and his apartment was much cleaner for it, the final load of laundry from his travels running in the dryer as he finished the last of his left overs from the night before. Once the dishes were put away he moved over to examine his new business cards, pulling the paper off and tossing it away before flipping the box open with a small smile. Today was, overall, a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://31.media.tumblr.com/a31f9d188d2a493a071705e24fd44990/tumblr_ndrwugjAOI1qbyb95o1_250.gif


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning there is some gore/physical trauma here but I kept it to a minimum.

Vivienne was, by default, no fan of violence. This included riots. They were messy, cost people too much, and gave police forces more of a reason to exercise their increasingly itchy trigger fingers on anyone who jumped at them, leading to appalling numbers of deaths and injuries in the innocent population more than the guilty party. Which, in turn, achieved nothing beyond closing discussions on the topic they were rioting about, effectively rendering their riot, and arguments, invalid. Which then bred an even stronger and angrier riot in the assumption they were being ignored. The only comparison she could find was that of a small child banging pots together progressively louder until someone gave in. She sighed quietly as she looked over the newest reports on the events unfurling in Redcliffe, noting the ghastly number of serious to mortal injuries reported by rioters and civilians. What caught her attention was the clear lack of discipline for the officers who caused said injuries, some of which she found were even compensated and given more time on the field due to being ‘effective assets’ in repelling the hordes. Her lip curled delicately as she read over another police report over her nightly tea, finally pushing the folder away and reaching for her phone, making a call to one of her closest informants and dear friends on the force. She made it a point to avoid calling in favors unless she desperately needed aid, and this time it seemed she would need every ounce of help to crack down on the true goings on in the Chantry police force. Two rings later and Cassandra answered, albeit somewhat grumpily.

_’Vivienne, this isn't the best time.’_

“I understand my dear but I have some very pressing questions about your task forces in Redcliffe.”

_’You and thirty other reporters...if you really want to know, the orders to use brutal force were given by the District Cleric’s office, superseding my direct imperative to contain the situation.’_ She pursed her lips and nodded, standing from her table and slowly moving over to her balcony, watching the city darken.

“I had assumed as such, but I couldn't quite report on ‘suspected’ information now could I? I do have standards. But, if you are busy I can call back tomorrow morning but I doubt you'll want me harking on you on a Sunday.”

_’I would prefer you did not, yes. I can spare a few minutes to talk but know I can not expose details of the containment plan to you, the rioters still have access to the news networks.’_

“I would never dream of endangering your officers my dear, all I need is help finding the information I need to mount a full report by Monday morning.” There was a long pause, Cassandra sighing in defeat.

_’Varric has a contact you may find useful, and I will let him give you her number so long as everything you find be filtered through me so I may apprehend as necessary.’_ Vivienne smiled and finished her tea, turning back towards the kitchen.

“I will gladly share all data with you, it's about time those Clerics are purged of their indiscretions. I would be aware there is corruption within your ranks my dear, be very careful of who you trust your charges with from now until we clean up this trifle. It's a blight on the memory of Justinia to see them vying for power so soon.” Cassandra’s tone took on a hard edge, the mere mention of the power mongering bureaucrats sending her mood further south.

_’Indeed. I will have Varric send you the information in a few minutes, please be wary of what you dig up Vivienne.’_ She cursed and shifted the phone. _’I have an emergency call on the other line, please excuse me.’_ The line went dead moments later, Vivienne simply shrugging and placing her phone on the table as she finished collecting her dinner from the oven, humming along to the radio. Minutes later her phone buzzed and a message displayed on the screen from Varric’s work phone.

> V.T (Work) [6:50 pm]:  
> Seeker said you were looking for information, this number will connect you with the Nightingale, she will help you find everything you need. I’ve already filled her in on the situation so you won't have any trouble. Good hunting.  
> [+9-223-697-4050]

Vivienne pulled the folder back over as she began eating, noting the faint sounds of sirens passing by her loft before hunkering down to begin her next investigation with her notepad at the ready. Once the number was input she started the call and set it to speaker phone, waiting patiently for this ‘nightingale’ to answer. She picked up on the last ring, a smile filling her voice as she spoke.

_’Hello Madame de Fer, I hear you have an investigation for me.’_

“Indeed I do, you no doubt heard the nasty business in Redcliffe?”

_’How could I not? It's on every news channel, including yours. You're questioning the police brutality, no?’_

“I am, it's become disturbingly apparent that the orders were given simply to exercise power over exploited members of society. There is no evidence of discipline for those doling out mortal blows, in some cases they have even been rewarded in a backhanded sort of way, I want to know why.” The Nightingale clicked her tongue in thought before chuckling quietly.

_’You are every bit as determined as Varric said you would be, I am glad for that. First I will need you to understand my name can not be shared for my safety and yours, if that is agreeable then I will proceed with my investigations while we collaborate for the mutual good of the Mage community. Is this acceptable Miss Vivienne?’_

“It is. No doubt this information and help comes at a cost. Name your price and I will be sure to fill it.” She laughed quietly, Vivienne finding something slightly unsettling about the calmness in which she presented herself. The joviality of her tone masked something far more dangerous, something she surely did not want to unleash.

_’I have no need for money or influence; information in itself is my currency and Varric is steadily supplying me with everything I need for this particular job. Your research on this subject so far is all I ask to start this inquiry off on the right foot.’_

“Of course. Where shall we begin?”

_’Well, do you have the names of the officers who are responsible for the most deaths? I want to see what their track records look like before we start investigating the large players in the Chantry’s ranks.’_

 

Cassandra had only seen two fires worth pausing in awe at. One was the blaze that consumed the whole of the Dalish farm lands after the generators collapsed during the Conglomerate power crisis, and the other stood before her in all of its horrible glory. An explosion, as she had been told, had nearly decimated the upper levels and sent the apartments up in a pyre worthy of the old gods. The whole complex was ablaze with white and orange flames, the faint smell of ozone in the smoke screaming of lyrium and accelerants. If it was an intentional fire, as she heavily suspected, it was started by something that was designed to burn through magical barriers, meaning the attacker knew there were mages inside the building and had intentionally targeted them. What made it worse was the fact that it was Solas’ apartment complex that was burning to the ground, making this attack a very possible attempt on his life. She barked orders as people passed, hoping to control the panic as best she could as More people streamed out of the building, firefighters and government endorsed mages fighting to calm the raging fire with smoke filling the sky in dark plumes. Heat berated her face despite the constant onslaught of ice magic and water from the hoses, a qunari firefighter barreling out with someone in her arms, blood and ash skewing their face.

“I need an ambulance open and ready for transport, critical victim with lacerations and possible third degree burns to his chest and arms! Losing blood fast!” Cassandra moved over as the figure was pushed onto a gurney, the qunari turning back and running back into the flames without a second thought, their own barrier adding protection against the heat as they disappeared into the flames. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the blackened bald dome and sharp ears from behind the EMTs, Solas’ palid face and lacking response sending a spike of fear through her. Despite all of her hoping he had been home when this disaster struck. One of the EMTs pushed past her to start up the ambulance, yelling orders as he left.

“He’s alive but tanking fast, get the IV in his leg and start pumping fluids, we need to go!” The others nodded and loaded him in, Cassandra climbing in after them with a flash of her badge. Vivienne’s warning rang in her ears, her suspicions mounting when she noticed the nearest EMT watching her cautiously. No one could be trusted, not yet. The ambulance took off as an oxygen mask was placed over Solas’ face, his shirt and pants coming off with a pair of shears as they tried to tend to the worst of his injuries. His chest and stomach were blackened with soot and burns, blood weeping from the wounds in thick rivulets where the heat had cracked his skin open at the seams, white tissue lacing up his fingers and arms where the worst of the damage had been done. She immediately began photographing what she could for evidence, staying clear of the EMTs as they worked. He jerked awake when they hit a sharp turn, one EMT taking on the task of keeping him stable as the other began applying salves to the worst of his burns.

“Mister we need you to stay with us, we’re almost at the hospital but you need to stay awake! I know it hurts but there's just a bit further, look at me and keep breathing slow and deep breaths.” She grimaced and leaned forward to see how far away the hospital was, tapping the EMT’s shoulder cautiously.

“I will keep talking with him so you can get back to work, he’s a close friend.” Surprisingly the EMT relinquished the duty to her after helping shift Sola’s head to a better position, Cassandra moving in to hold the mask over his face gently. He was floating in and out of consciousness and she feared what would happen to him if he fell under, her hands keeping his head steady as they hit a bump that sent the whole cabin jarring forward. 

“Solas- Solas. We are almost at the hospital, I need you to keep your eyes open and on me. Concentrate on my voice, we’re going to get you help, everything is going to be fine my friend.” He grunted in pain, taking a weak breath in as he tried to hold her gaze with his quickly fading one, There was something about how he stared at her that set an uneasy sickness in her stomach, dread and some form of understanding lacing his gaze before he finally fell back into unconsciousness, his eyes rolling back.

“Shit, he’s unconscious now, how far are we from the hospital?”

“About a block away, keep his head steady and we’ll pull in in just a moment.” She nodded and did as she was told, the ambulance screeching to a halt outside the hospital before the doors to the back were torn open and Solas was rushed out, Cassandra following close behind with her badge held out like a shield. There was no chance he was going to be left alone with sub par hospital security and she would stare down anyone who got in her way. He was wheeled into the emergency operating room and she was left outside, her hand flying to her phone as she began making calls left and right to contain the situation and ensure the fire was investigated _correctly_. Once that was completed she took it upon herself to get Solas’ room situated so she was the only guard allowed near the room, using what leverage she had to inform them of his precarious situation as a victim of foul play. By midnight he was safely secured in his room and she was standing guard, the eerie calm of the hospital room doing nothing to quell her fears of what would happen next. She had made a call to Josephine an hour ago to alert her of the situation and she had practically screamed that she would be there with Dorian to assess the damage and try to help their colleague feel better, but she highly doubted he would be conscious until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. A nurse flitted in and out intermittently to fiddle with his IVs and check his vitals but he paid no heed to the guard in the corner, the door bursting open minutes later as Dorian and Josephine thundered in bearing blankets, food, and friendly concern, their voices filling the room all at once. 

“We came as fast as we could but we had to run by the office to get that quilt Mythal made for you-”

“Veshante kaffas Solas I swear if you d-” Cassandra stood and fixed them with a cold glare, one hand held out for the goods.

“I want to examine these before we give them to Solas, there is more danger in this situation than either of you know.” They paused and stared at her blankly before complying, the blanket and foodstuffs falling under her critical gaze before she set them in their respective places. Dorian was the first to leap to business, his hair in slight disarray but otherwise impeccably set as was the rest of his ensemble. It baffled her how well he could present himself in a pair of joggers and a tank top. 

“The news reports are saying it was a gas leak but I’m sincerely doubting that considering the intensity of the flames. What exactly is going on Cassandra?”

“Was it a domestic attack in response to the riots?”

“It is possible but I believe it may have been an attempt on Solas’ life.” Josephine paled considerably at that, Dorian’s face twisting to a mixture of displeasure and worry at her words. “There was evidence of a lyrium accelerant used in the initial explosion but until we find out more I can not come to any other conclusions. I will be getting the two of you access to his room but do not tell anyone else he is here, as far as the general staff know this is simply a burn victim under the name Abelas who has information about the attack.” They nodded in unison and handed over any information they could, the nurse coming back in to start the next course of healing on his hands. He refused Dorian’s aid when it was offered and eventually wandered out to tend to his other patients, a small groan leaving Solas as he started coming around again. Josephine was by his side in an instant, providing help where he needed it until he was somewhat upright with the quilt draped over his lap. He could barely open his eyes due to the swelling from the smoke but he squinted at them blearily, his voice hoarse.

“Wha-where…?”

“Herald’s Rest Hospital, you’re out of the worst of it Solas.”

“Good...I..the package...it was…” Cassandra frowned and set up a recorder on her phone, setting it near him as she moved over to his side. 

“There was a package?”

“Yes...my cards came in the mail...earlier than expected..opened it...couldn't put up a barrier in time..” 

“Did you see who delivered it?”

“Girl...elvhen, blonde..”

“Did she have a company logo anywhere? Something easily identifiable?” He nodded and winced, leaning his head back against the pillows.

“Jenny’s...the package service...cyclists I think..” Cassandra frowned and made a note to start the investigation there, stopping her recording and letting Solas rest before excusing herself to make a call just outside the room. 

“Varric? I hate to wake you but I need some help...Solas needs protection but I can not trust the police force to keep him safe. Do you know of any trustworthy protection squads that I can call upon to watch over him until this investigation is over?”

_’Of course, I think I know just the person to call.’_


	4. Chapter 4

The moment he hung up with Cassandra Varric was already dialing another number, rolling out of bed with a quiet grunt as he feet hit the carpet, waddling to the kitchen to grab his coffee to start working on a bargain. With Solas needing protection outside the police department he’d have to reach far back into his contacts to get the number he needed, which meant a ‘trip’ to the underground where he, admittedly, frequented despite his wife’s insistence to stop. He started up the coffee maker and sat down to wait, yanking out a few pieces of paper to take notes on when the person on the other end finally graced him with their presence. It took nearly four hours of calling and negotiating with several less than savoury people to finally get the information he needed to possibly get in contact with Feylan, his sixth cup of coffee already wearing off under the constant grating of words in his ear. He sighed and bade the contact a good morning before hanging up, looking at his notes again. The number he had been given was a month old and the last lead dated back to late August, but considering the state the underground was in he couldn’t blame them for having three month old data. The collapse had done a ringer on everyone involved, himself included. He had come out with only twenty dollars to his name and since he was one of the luckier ones many others were not so fortunate. He shoved his phone away and started on breakfast, giving himself a bit of time to think about how he was going to approach the impending conversation with Feylan. She had lost everything when the underground had gone down, and had it not been for himself a few others there would have been nothing left of her save a jaded ex-op from Antiva with a serious lyrium problem. The lyrium wasn’t her fault, Antivan operative forces were made to use them during missions to keep them under control and a step above the other military organizations at an increasingly high cost. When they had met in the Haven underground she was a half gone floater with nothing but a vial of lyrium to keep her alive, but now, after they helped her, she was on the road to recovery. Something she insisted she owed them for. He couldn’t simply call in his ‘favour’ she owed him considering how big of a pain in the ass Solas was, watching him would require pay for the entire time she was holed up with his lacking congeniality, and he wasn’t that much of an asshole to pull this job on her for free. Maybe he could take her out to dinner and use that as the favour. He did owe her a couple rounds of drinks, or she owed him a couple of rounds. He couldn't remember, but one owed the other a whole night of drinking for writing up a new identity for the both of them after the collapse, so he could use that as a bargaining chip to get her down to Ferelden from wherever she was. He turned back to his phone when it beeped from the counter, leaving his eggs to sit as he read through Cassandra’s message.

> Seeker/Wifey [4:48 am]  
>  Solas is stable and extremely grumpy, eating solids without problem. Any luck getting your contact on board?

Varric chuckled and typed his response as best he could with one hand, stirring the eggs a bit more before dropping them into his plate with the toast.

> Sent [5:00 am]  
>  I’m going to call in a few minutes, had to track them down first. If he starts complaining just threaten to film him and he’ll shape up real fast.
> 
> Seeker/Wifey [5:01 am]  
>  Dorian has already filmed him and is using it as an incentive to stay in bed and cooperate with the nurse, I swear I’m babysitting thirty year old children.

He laughed and sent her a kiss face before dialing Feylan’s number, setting the phone on the counter as it rang over and over. A fitting soundtrack to his life lately. He was halfway through his eggs when she answered with a groggy groan.

 _’Who is it…_

“Feylan? This is Varric.” He heard covers shifting as she moved around, another groan following a quiet thud. Apparently she had been sleeping. Oops. 

_’Varric? How’d you get this number?’_

“I had to make four hours’ worth of phone calls to get a vague idea of your number, but I need you to come to Ferelden for a job.”

_’What kind of job…’_

“Protection type, high profile.”

_’How high profile are we talking? Please don’t tell me it’s a prince…’_

“Not a prince, if you take it you’ll be protecting a prosecutor with several hundred death threats hanging over his head and one of ‘em is after him.” She huffed out a small laugh at that, a tiny snort following it.

_’He sounds charming. If you’re calling me then I’m assuming the police can’t be trusted with his safety.’’_

“Yes, Cassandra got a tip about some not-so-great goings on in the department and we need someone we can trust. If you can’t I have another person lined up but I’d really prefer you take care of this one...” A minute passed before she sighed and shifted her phone, a small beep coming from her end. 

_’I’ll take it. Is this your favour being called in or are you going to pay me for this one?’_

“I’m paying you for this and we’re going out to dinner when this is all over, one of us owes the other drinks and it's high time we actually talked as friends again.”

_’Alright, text me all the info you have and save my number under a pseudonym, we will need to stay in contact. Send me Cassandra’s number as well, she will want to stay in the loop. Do not tell anyone but her of the plans for our charge, he will need to go deep under the grid if he is in as much danger as you say.’_

“Whatever you say Blue, I’ll get to typing in a bit. Anyway, where are you right now? Sounds like you’re about ready to pass out on me.” She yawned, letting out a long sigh.

_’Orlais. I just got back from Tevinter, diplomatic shit had me running all over the Magisterium trying to clear out some bad blood for Krem. You wouldn’t believe how ignorant some of those assholes are...’_

“I can guess. I’ll let you get back to sleep then, thanks for taking this job Feylan.”

 _’No problem Varric, tell Cassandra to stay safe...I have a feeling her association with this will bring her under fire soon.’_ The line went dead moments later, leaving Varric to contemplate her words as he started typing up a comprehensive report on Solas and how best to deal with him and his very particular circumstances.

> Sent [5:32 am]  
>  Prosecutor’s name is Solas, 32 years old, he’s currently recovering from the attack on his apartment at Herald’s Rest Hospital on 1357 E. Victoria Ave. room 490 F. You’ll need clearance to see him but Cassandra will let your people in when they come to retrieve him. He’s high on several people’s lists for his work against different cases, but for now we are worried about the bomber after him. I haven't heard of any investigation starting but there will be one once Cassandra gets her hands on the evidence. I’ll warn you now, he’s an ass but he’ll bend if you give him enough of a reason to, which, knowing you, won’t be a problem. I’m giving Cassandra your number, so here’s hers. Good luck, he’s definitely a handful, but you may like him ;)  
>  [+3-202-344-5096] 

After checking over the info he sent the text and started up on the one for Cassandra, making sure he gave her all the details she would need with Feylan’s number before letting it whisk away and hopping up to put away the dishes, desperately needing a shower after his five hour bender on the phone.

 

Cassandra was almost ready to beat Dorian’s head in when her phone distracted her from her rage, a message coming in from Varric after nearly a half an hour waiting for his answer about their outside ‘help’, the charming beep of her ringtone muffled by her lap as she sat watching the two college educated and successful men torture each other over a bowl of oatmeal.

> Varric [5:36 am]  
>  I got Blue on board, she’s in Orlais now but it looks like she’ll be sending someone to pick up Solas to move him to a safe house soon. She has your number and I’m giving you hers. Do not let anyone know about the plans for Solas except for me and Blue or anyone she gives access to that information, he’s going down deep. Don’t let him know anything about her until she gives the green light, we can’t risk him doing any research on her to complicate things. You know how he is. Stay alert love, people may come after you because of your connection to Solas and this case.  
>  [+9-379-559-1378] 

She saved the number and sighed, looking up at Solas trying to fend Dorian of with one bandaged hand.

“Dorian if you try and feed me I will get up and force that spoon down your throat.”

“Oh come now, you need help with those bandages stopping your fine motor functions, open up.” Solas scowled and kept his mouth sealed, his coworker sighing in overt defeat as he put the spoon back in the oatmeal, leaning back in his chair next to the bed. “Fine, starve.”

“I can feed myself just fine, you do not need to aid me in any way other than helping me get out of this damned bed.” 

“Quiet both of you, Solas you are restricted to the bed until they can heal the damage to your chest and you are well aware of that fact; Dorian, quit antagonizing the poor man and get back home, you’ve been here long enough as it is.” Both men sighed and gave in, though Dorian did not return home, instead he sat back and entertained himself with his phone, briefly looking up to make sure Solas was actually eating. “Solas, I hate to ask but do you remember anything else from last night? Any faces or names?”

“No, everything is just as jumbled as the last time. Apparently I got a concussion from headbutting my fridge, so it may be a while before I can even recall what I had for dinner yesterday.” He frowned and fumbled with his spoon before managing to get another spoonful of oatmeal in, his frustration with the situation almost palpable. “Do you have any news about the state of the apartment?”

“I received a call at two this morning, the top four floors collapsed after yours was destroyed, the whole building is basically a blackened shell. The explosion was definitely meant to kill you Solas.”

“You said there were lyrium accelerants...that means someone knows I can use magic. That is not knowledge I want available to people.”

“It’s possible they used lyrium to make the fire as volatile as possible, there was no indication that the lyrium was in solid form to rip through barriers, though traces of liquid lyrium were found in your apartment.” He shook his head, scowling at his now cold oatmeal as if it were at fault for this. 

“A bomb is a very bad way of trying to kill me directly, why not a stabbing while I’m walking home or shoot me while I’m in court?” 

“Are you disappointed by their tactics?”

“No, their tactics simply don’t make sense. To go through the research necessary to find my home address and then construct a bomb with lyrium inside of it, a controlled substance that is heavily regulated, get it delivered by a bike and hope it doesn’t detonate until I open it? This plan is heavily contingent upon absolutely nothing going wrong once the package is in the hands of a cyclist during rush hour. For someone so determined to kill me they are taking a path that will, as we see now, fail. Now if they used the bomb to hospitalize me and then kill me while I was bedridden that may make a bit more sense but it still doesn’t explain why they would risk so much just to get me here.” He sighed and waved his hand, immediately regretting doing so when the bandages pinched his raw skin. “Once my memory returns I may be able to piece it together better but for now we are simply speculating the motivations of a madman or woman, as frustrating as that is..”

“Indeed, finish your breakfast, the nurse should be coming in soon to start on your arms again.” He made a face she knew was a barely disguised pout before diving back into his oatmeal, waving to Dorian when he finally decided to leave for home once more. Silence fell over the room as he ate, Solas finally finishing and leaning back against his pillows.

“Did they recover anything from the flames?”

“Sadly no, everything you had either burned or was lost during the collapse of the upper floors. Your phone did survive but it’s in a sorry state, Josephine arranged all of the calls with the bank to freeze your accounts while this is being investigated so you’re effectively penniless as well. I’ve made a call to a friend who will be coming along soon to take care of watching you while I lead the investigation on this.”

“And who is this friend?”

“I can't exactly tell you, her operation is strictly need to know and you are not on the list of those who need to know just yet, but I assure you she is the best at protective services that we can afford at the moment. You will be safe with her and her team.”

“But I can’t have a name.”

“No. As I said, it's on a need to know basis.”

“How am I supposed to trust someone with my life if I don’t know her name?”

“If you knew her name you wouldn’t trust her anyway, so you are to be kept in the dark until you are in her care where she will inform you of the situation. That is how she operates and it is how we will as well.” He growled but gave in as the nurse came back in to tend to his arms again, his annoyance mounting. How was he supposed to trust the person in charge of his well being if he couldn’t find out their qualifications in the area of protective services? Cassandra seemed to trust this woman enough to keep him in the dark but he was far from complacent with just her word on the subject. Solas chewed on his lip and let the nurse fiddle with his arms, using the time to think about how best to approach his new situation as the destitute elf he had once been before Flemeth had helped him. It seemed reliance on others was, once again, his only means of surviving. That fact irked him greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now my Inquisitor is finally a part of the story, yay! Thank you guys for the support so far, I'm glad you're enjoying so far :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the lag in updates, I got back from Japan and immediately moved out of my house and into the dorms and then financial aid got all weird and I had no time to edit this while I was starting up class after a whole semester off so hopefully this is a good enough apology for my absence.

####  96 hours remaining

“Solas, what size pants do you wear?” He frowned and looked up from his half eaten hospital food, brow quirked in suspicion.

“Who wants to know?” Cassandra frowned at her phone screen, wiping off dust from the panel with her thumb. 

“Josephine, they are picking up clothes for you down at the mall.” 

“It depends on the cut of the pants. But it's generally 28-30x34...they don’t need to purchase my clothes for me, I will be perfectly fine to do it myself when I am free of this place.” She nodded and sent a text off, leaning back in the recliner with a sigh.

“You know for a fact they would rather die than let you buy your own clothes after a disaster. Be grateful Josephine isn't alone, she would come back with a new wardrobe for you if Dorian wasn’t there to cut her off.” 

"Which is why he is in charge of our finances and not Josephine, either way I don't want them buying me clothing, you saw what happened the last time they did that."

"The suit wasn't that bad Solas, Tevinter fashion is simply...."

"Obnoxious?"

"I was going to say eccentric. Or even exotic. But that hardly matters, Josephine simply wants to get you a few shirts and jeans to tide you over until you can find a new place to live. How is the chicken?" Solas grimaced and motioned to the gravy soaked mess on his tray, poking at a particularly gelatinous glob with his fork.

"I'm not quite sure I would describe it as chicken so much as chicken fat swimming in brown gravy. The salad is the only redeeming feature." Cassandra 'hmmed' in response, looking at her phone intently as she leaned forward. "Something catch your eye?"

"Hm? Oh, no, Varric was just telling me about his new manuscript for that serial he has been working on, apparently he wants to add espionage to the mix."

"Espionage? I thought he was working on a romance for that horrendous series on TV, Staves and Sutra or similar." 

"Swords and Shields. They dropped him from the publication after he added a same sex elf-qunari romance to the script, according to Varric the director is vehemently against love in any creature that isn't human or round-eared." Solas sighed and pushed his tray away, taking a small drink from his water. 

"I'm assuming the man is Orlesian?" Cassandra nodded as she responded to the text, her brow furrowing as another playful ding filled the room.

"From the same firm that runs that atrocious Glory of the Exalted March series. The one with the award winning elvhen harem featuring Fen’Harel?" He groaned in recognition, pinching the bridge of his nose. _That_ firm.

"Unsurprising then, they make money off of being blatantly racist and historically innacurate full time."

"Indeed..." She went silent as she typed another response, her brow seeming to develop fault lines as the information she received was processed. "Solas, If I showed you a few pictures of some individuals would you be able to pick out one that looked closest to your delivery girl?"

"Possibly, her features aren’t readily available but I could try to recall what she looked like using the pictures." Cassandra nodded and moved over to his bedside, showing him an array of photos of young blonde elven girls, flipping through them slowly to give him time to examine their features. It wasn't until she reached the end of the photo reel that he recognized one of them from the line up, frowning as he tapped the picture in question. 

"She seems the closest to the delivery girl...I don't recall seeing vallaslin though."

"No vallaslin then?" Solas shook his head and leaned back, rubbing at his temple slowly.

"Not that I recall. I just know The Jenny company was bringing me the cards...." Cassandra nodded and typed out her response, glancing up at the nurse as he came in to check the monitor and rescue Solas from his wilted chicken and gravy.

“Do you know when you placed the order for the cards?”

“The Wednesday before the fire...I remember being surprised the box was coming so early.”

“Do you not usually get packages early?” He frowned, ears dropping slightly as he shook his head.

“No, not usually, it does happen though, and when my packages come early it is usually a Jenny company courier that has it. Most of my boxes come in better condition than if I use the Chantry mail service, so I have shown preference for them in the past, which could explain why the bomber chose to transport the package with them to avoid suspicion.” Cassandra nodded, sighing as she sent a message to someone, an officer most likely. 

“That would make sense, we have officers headed over to question whoever is at their warehouse now, if anything they can point us to whomever sent you the package instead of your business cards.”

#### 93 hours remaining

They got Chantry officers in the garage quite often, usually for the general lyrium sweeps they did in the storage containers or the occasional drug check, which Dagna didn’t mind at all. She liked the mabari they brought in, even if they were a bit scary, and the officers were never anything but professional and down to earth. The officers that pulled up to the garage today, though, did not have a mabari, only their badges and notepads in tow as they entered. Dagna smiled and waved from her desk, swivelling around in her chair to greet them.

“Well hello there! Welcome to the Jenny Package Delivery Service main office! How can I help you today?” The first officer, a younger looking elvish man with bright red hair, cleared his throat awkwardly, approaching the desk. It was rare to see elves in anything but secretarial duties, but he looked smashing in his uniform, if a bit underfilled and lanky. It made her happy to see more of them climbing into positions to change the ways of the world.

“Would you know where the manager is by any chance? We have a few questions regarding a cyclist of yours.”

“Oh, well, we don't have a manager position set up yet but I’m pretty close to a manager with my duties here, was there a complaint filed against one of our cyclists? I know we’re in violation of not having helmets for them yet but our order got pushed back a few weeks because of the embargo on Tevinter import goods.”

“There wasn't a complaint filed that we were made aware of ma’am, we just need to speak to a cyclist regarding a fire they may have witnessed is all. Preliminary questioning to help narrow our investigation down.” Dagna nodded and grabbed her radio, checking the computer screen to see where the cyclists were currently. 

“That makes sense, which cyclist do you want to speak to? All of our runners are out but I think I could get a hold of them to have the turn back.”

“We only have a description based off of a few other witnesses but do you have a cyclist who is female, elvish, has short to medium length blonde hair, and delivered packages around the business district last Saturday around dinner time?” Her stomach sunk to her feet as she nodded, checking the roster just to buy time so she could swallow down her nervousness. Sera was their only blonde employee and she never did well with interrogations. She usually ended up incriminating herself before any useful information came out, and in this case it would mean she would be going back behind bars for another vandalism charge. They both could if she wasn’t careful.

“We had one courier go out to the business sector last weekend, she had one package to deliver from Blue Fin corporation to 1919 East Teagan street. It was signed off on around six thirty. Is this about that gas leak explosion in the apartment building?” The officers must have noticed her nervousness, the older one stepping away from his examination of their stats board.

“Yes ma’am, we have reason to believe the gas lines were cut in sections of the building. Your cyclist won’t be getting in any trouble, we just need to ask her if she saw anything while she was there.” Dagna nodded and hit the call button on her radio, ignoring the screaming whine coming from the receiver.

“Hey, Sera? This is the warehouse can you pick-up?”

_’Wozzat?’_

“Uhm I’m going to need you to turn around and come back to the garage, there are a couple of officers here that need to talk to you about that fire last weekend.”

_’I didnt do shite to that building!’_

“I know you didn't, they just wanna ask a few questions about what went on while you were there. Just head back and I’ll notify the customers their boxes will be a bit late today.”

_’Finefinefine, Imma drop this last one off then I’ll be down.’_

“Thanks Boo.” Dagna smiled awkwardly and cut the line, looking back up at the officers. “She’ll be back in a few minutes, can I get you guys some water maybe? We have some energy drinks in the back if you wanted one.”

“We’ll be fine, thank you for the offer.” She nodded, checking the screen again. One officer’s phone dinged pleasantly from his pocket, a few moments passing before he spoke up once more. “Do you have the records of what a package’s place or origin is?”

“Yes sir we do, I can check up the package number and have the exact origin address in a few minutes.”

“Perfect, we’ll need the origin of the Blue Fin package if that’s alright.” She didn’t quite see the significance of the origin of a package in a fire investigation, but pulled the order up anyway, twisting her screen around to show them the whole sheet. 

“Here you go, looks like the package came all the way from the Blue Fin Printing Main Office in Val Royeaux, it passed through the Chantry handling department in Redcliffe right before the riots started and then came here on the regular mail service. We scanned it out at around 9 Saturday morning and it was dropped off at 7 that night.” Both officers shared a look that she couldn’t really place before the older one sent a message and turned to look as Sera swung in from the streets with her finger held high at a car that whizzed by with its horn blaring, her wheels screeching to a halt on the cement.

“Fucking white collar mabari buggering asshat, I’ll fucking key your fancy Benz the next time you try and tailgate my ass, teach you to try an’ hit me when I’m tunin’.” She huffed and slammed her bike into the rack, dusting off her jeans with a scowl. “He tried to hit me when I had right o’way! If anyone deserves a fucking fender bender it's him! Ruin his precious periwinkle car.” 

“Uhm...Sera?”

“Wot.” 

“We...have guests..” Danga awkwardly indicated the officers, neither of whom looked impressed by her entrance, her girlfriend’s face dropping to a deadpan frown with her hears low.

“These the ones that wanna talk?” To his credit, the younger officer stepped forward and cleared his throat quietly, maintaining a professional demeanor as he spoke timidly.

“Yes ma’am, just a few questions about the fire is all. You delivered a package to the business district last Saturday correct?”

“Package went to a bald guy that gave me a ten in tips.”

“Do you recall seeing anyone suspicious or out of place hanging around the area when you left? Maybe a man or woman lingering around the bike racks or loitering in the lobby?”

“Nope. Did see a homeless man who wanted in out of the wind but got kicked out from a burger joint, but no one cares about ‘im right? Just as long as the pretty people get protected.”

“Was the homeless man near the apartment when you left?”

“He was hiding under the awning asking for change. Didn’t look good, had the glassy eyes those Templars get after drinking too much blue.” She waved her hand in front of her eyes to extentuate the point, frowning. “Gonna arrest a homeless one now are ya?”

“Only if he’s committed a crime, ma’am. Were you aware of the contents of the package for the man in the apartment?”

“No, Widdle said it was fragile but that was it. We don’t make it our business to peek inside the boxes.”

“Was it oddly heavy or have any liquids inside?”

“No, just paper. Was actually real light.” The officer nodded and took down some notes, his superior leaning away to listen to his earpiece carefully. “Alright, last question, did you go to the apartment with any other reason than to deliver the package on Saturday night?”

“No.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the wall, munching her gum with a dissatisfied frown. “Ponces in the business district deserve to get knocked down a few notches but fire isn't my thing. Pranks are all well and good until someone gets hurt, and that fire wasn't a prank. Someone wanted to harm, and I don't do that. Too many little people can get caught in it.”

####  83 Hours Remaining

> Varric [00:23]  
>  Are we going to be in contact with the guys picking the package up?  
> 
> 
> Sent [00:24]  
>  Yes.
> 
> Sent [00:25]  
>  Bull’s number  
>  [+9-909-6969] 
> 
> Sent [00:35]  
>  **to: Cass, Varric, Bull, and three others**  
>  Cullen, myself, Thom, and Cole are enroute, we will arrive at the safehouse in 100 hours. Do not disclose information to package, assume he will not cooperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has kudo-ed, bookmarked, subscribed, commented, and read this story so far, you have no idea how much it means to me! I should be getting more regular with updates as life smooths out so expect more soon-ish!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *screams and throws a chapter at you out of nowhere*

#### 66 hours remaining

Cassandra was not pleased to hear that Solas’ package was sent through an active riot zone. For one, it meant their suspect pool grew to the entire population of Redcliffe, and for two it meant they couldn’t do any field investigation when any and all evidence was most likely destroyed on top of the fact the entire city was under a forced quarantine to contain the violence. It was possible she could get Varric to do a bit of digging on his end but she was already breaking too many rules as it was going around the protocol for protective custody and information sharing on a potentially classified case that she risked losing her position entirely. She glanced down at her phone, the time reading 7: 42 pm as a new message popped up from the group chat ‘Blue’ had set up.

> Bull [7:42]   
> Just passed into Ferelden and making a beeline for the hospital, will be stopping off to pick up the clothes Cassandra requested once we find a good place to stop, will be picking up Krem before we get to the hospital, he has the rest of our arsenal.

She frowned at the mention of an arsenal considering the Chantry had banned any one individual from owning any more than two firearms and one combat oriented knife in an attempt to cut down on violent crime, but she let the information conveniently slip past her notice under the less than ideal circumstances. Bull and his team were, from what Varric had told her, not citizens of Ferelden or Orlais, so the mandates technically didn’t apply to them even though they did live within the boundaries of Ferelden. Their record was almost entirely spotless as well from what Varric had learned. Bull ran a tight ship of social misfits, dwarves, dalish, Tevinter, and qunari, all of whom were highly qualified individuals with skills she would absolutely die to have with her own officers. Her phone lit up again, another few messages rolling in from her husband and the aforementioned ‘Krem’.

> Varric [7:50]   
> Do you really need an arsenal if you’re planning on staying hidden the entire time?  
> Krem [7:50]   
> All weapons are cleaned, dismantled, and ready for transport chief, I also have what’s left of the barbeque from last Saturday. Got some ribs, cornbread, fruit salad, and chili for chili fries left over.  
> Krem [7:51]  
> And yes, we do need the weapons. Better to have them and not need them at all than need them and not have them at all. Basic boy scout logic really. 

She chuckled quietly at that, looking up as Solas huffed for the tenth time that hour, his annoyance practically seeping into the walls as he attempted to stand straight without wobbling on his feet. He looked slightly comical with the ugly puke green hospital gown thrown over a pair of designer joggers Dorian had leant him, but at least he was vertical, his grip on his IV drip white knuckled as he waddled his way towards the seat near the window.

“The nurses told you walking was still dangerous Solas, don’t go rushing your recovery.” He grunted as he sat, panting quietly and pressing a hand to the wraps on his chest to ease the burning there.

“The faster...I start moving...the faster...I will be in shape to leave...and get back in contact with my clients...I have more cases that need my attention.”

“Even if you are discharged within the next few weeks you still aren’t allowed to contact anyone until we are sure none of your clients are involved. Your suspect list is growing by the hour and we are strained on resources because of what is happening in Redcliffe, so I would assume your cases will be cold for at least another six months.” Solas scowled at that, his ears drooping slightly.

“I can’t simply abandon my cases or shift them off to my coworkers, my reputation as an attorney rides on completing them in a timely-” He coughed, wincing at the painful constriction it caused in his chest. By the time he had caught his breath Dorian and Josephine had returned with their files and paperwork in tow, both making exasperated noises at his seat near the window. Josephine was the first to abandon her papers and move over his side, already tugging him towards the bed once more.

“Solas you shouldn’t be out of bed.” He frowned and tried to resist her tugs, but Josephine was much stronger than she looked, her grip tightening on his arm and tugging him along despite his struggles.

“I assure you I am perfectly fit to be out and about, I’m not made of glass.” 

“As far as I’m concerned you are made of glass until the medical professionals deem you to be healed, now sit and get comfortable, Dorian and I have collected the case paperwork and files for you to fill out for both the investigators and the firm.” Solas, now completely defeated by the insistence of his coworker, huffed and slid back into his bed, groaning as he leaned back into the pillows. 

“The hospital is supposed to handle the insurance claims…” Dorian chuckled and flopped an inch thick folder down on his bedside table, his smile growing in the way only a financial advisor’s could at the prospect of paperwork.

“These aren’t insurance claims Solas, these are the financial documents for your visit and the assets documents for your apartment. We are going to walk you through every single asset you owned from the apples in your refrigerator to the underwear in your drawers to make sure we have a FULL financial account of your losses and what this attack and resulting hospital stay will be costing you, the firm, and our insurance provider.” 

“You can’t possibly need me for all of it…”

“Do you have anything better to do at the moment?” Solas came up short with that, both Josephine and Dorian smiling victoriously before pulling up their chairs and boxing him into the bed with their paperwork brandished like weapons, the lists coming out along with several different coloured pens and the ever famous financial algorithm spreadsheet Dorian had come up with and printed out the first day he started at the firm. The whole set-up was dizzying, but Solas put his legal mind to work, examining every asset he was questioned about and giving the answers he could in full honesty. It would be a long day, but at least he wasn’t wasting time sitting and doing nothing any longer.

####  48 hours remaining

Driving cross country in a shitty disposable vehicle wasn’t fun. Driving cross country with an amputee, a massive service dog, a grumpy ex-con/hitman, and a teenager was less so. Driving with all of them through Orlesian traffic with recently banned firearms and warrants on at least two heads in the vehicle with a questionably expired plate was so little fun she had actually imposed a ‘headphones on’ rule for the rest of the drive to the safe-house so she could avoid speaking at all. Her head was pounding, the cottony feel in her mouth was returning, every flash of a headlight made her eyes water and her hands were burning while the rest of her body had come down with a cold sweat. Her vials were in the back locked up in her gun case, and even if a small sip would help stave off the withdrawal it was still illegal to drive under the influence of any kind of narcotic, so she was going try to cut the chances of being pulled over and arrested. They couldn’t take any risks whatsoever. The mission was paramount to anything else. 

But creators, did it suck. Feylan grimaced and dug her nails into the steering wheel, boring holes into the minivan in front of her with her eyes as they sat idling on the freeway not five meters from the exit that led to the border of Orlais and Ferelden. All the van had to do was pull over to the side, but no, it was slowly, ever so slowly, rolling its way towards the exit with its hazards flashing as the drivers behind them honked as if it was going to fix the damned situation. It was a blessing that everyone in the car were deep sleepers, because none of them woke from the commotion outside, or at least it seemed like they hadn’t from what she could see in the rear view mirror. She sighed and looked down at her phone when it buzzed, opening the message from Bull.

> Bull [01:33]   
> About twenty hours out from the hospital and the safe house, stopped off and bought some clothes for the charge per Cassandra’s request.

Feylan glanced back up and let the car roll forward slowly to inch closer to the exit, tapping out her response with one hand while the other tapped at the steering wheel in annoyance.

> Sent [01:34] Good, we are 48 hours from the safe house. Do not let Cassandra know the location when you arrive, we can’t risk the information getting out on accident and compromising the system Cullen has in place.

She slid her phone back into her pocket and let out a huff of air as the van finally pulled over to the side to let people pass, her foot hitting the gas and propelling them down the exit and towards the toll checkpoint on the border. It wasn’t until they were several miles down the road that she checked her phone again, the faint sound of Cole and Corwoopheus snoring the only real break in the silence.

> Bull [01:37] You got it boss. See ya soon.

Feylan sent off her reply and shoved her phone back into her pocket, returning her gaze to the road and leaning back into the driver’s seat, her headache starting to subside now that the constant light from the headlights and streetlamps died out as they passed into the fully rural area of Ferelden. Her breath evened out once more, everything slowly coming back into focus with the steady vibration of the steering wheel in her hands on the lesser kept roads numbing her arms, her heart sinking slightly when she returned to her own thoughts. Bull would need to know about the court date. She owed him that much after everything they had done together. Cullen too. And Cole. Though it felt like Cole already knew, the way he, in some way, knew everything. Perhaps that was a good thing, perhaps not.

Either way it made it no easier on her to actually tell them she would be sentenced to life in prison in less than a year from now. Oh, there would be a trial, for the sake of pomp and circumstance. But the Orlesian justice system was weighed so heavily against elves, dwarves, and qunari or any mix of the above that it was almost guaranteed that a lyrium addicted dishonourably discharged elf from the Antivan military’s darkest secret team would be sentenced to life, if not multiple counts for what they were charging her for. Six charges of HUMAN (had to distinct them from any of the lesser things that roamed the continent, obviously) rights violations, seven misconduct charges, eleven civil disobedience, fourteen public intoxication, twenty possessions of a controlled substance while on duty, twenty-three DUI’s with a military vehicle, and finally, seventy-seven murders outside her hefty list of confirmed kills on the field. All of those charges had been the result of actions made under the order of her commanding officer, but obviously she was the one who had to take the fall, not the wealthy Orlesian that was flown in after Commander Deshanna Lavellan was killed in action. He was given a reprimand via a letter and then put on paid leave to the Antivan border for the summer at his family’s estate, where he was supposed to rethink his actions as a commander and come back with a new lease on his position while his team of lesser citizens; Bull and his team, herself, Cullen, Thom, and Lelianna, were all thrown out with separate charges and jail time. What hurt the most, now that she had had time to think about the mounting monster of charges and legal vitriol aimed her way, was that she no longer had the urge to fight. There was no reason. They had her by the throat and the pocket. She could barely afford to pay the legal fees necessary to get into court without a lawyer, much less with one, and she was legally required to remain silent on the matters of her service via the choke-order paperwork she and the team signed at the beginning of their service in the Antivan Black Ops. And now, after three years of struggling to keep afloat while absorbing her team’s sentences and setting them free of the legal fight she was done. Cooked through to the perfect done-ness most Orlesians turned their noses up at. As with all of Orlesian politics and games, who would want a steak well-done when you could have it bleeding under your knife? 

And yet she couldn't care less about what happened during or after the trial. Not now.

All she could hope for was that she would die in prison with a knife in her throat, like the guards had promised, before the lyrium withdrawal took her mind from her completely.


End file.
